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Posts Tagged ‘garlic harvest’

When we first arrived at the farm, we noted that the garlic wasn’t quite ready to emerge from the cool earth. No, as steadfast as it is pungent, the garlic was prepared to wait patiently for a few more days of intense heat, growing proportionally stronger with the heat index. So, we spent those days weeding and eating, all the while waiting for the garlic to summon us. As we were in the field, ripping weeds from the earth, the sun baked our backs. The heat the garlic needed, I grudgingly noted.

A few days passed, and a few less pounds of water weight I carried. Growing delirious from the sun, I walked over to the planted garlic. Just as I was about to reconcile that I would not be able to harvest the garlic during my time at the farm, I was given the signal. Several of the lower leaves of the garlic were brown, but the top five or six leaves were still green. The garlic was ready to be relieved from the dark den it had known the entirety of its life. The garlic was ready to metamorphose from a mere plant to the beloved raw garlic cloves we all reach for while cooking.

Francesca and I were so excited to harvest the garlic. This was the main reason we returned to Threshold Farm – to see a process come full circle. Cycles are inherent to the entire concept behind the farm, permaculture. Produce no waste, create feedback loops, and integrate the community. We loosened the dirt, and before long, the circle we began to draw in October, was complete.

the twigster,

Josephine

PS: The vampires will stay far away from me. Hehe.

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Systematically, Francesca and I threw individual garlic cloves onto the raised bed. Clove after clove thudded to the ground, each six inches from the prior. As we worked, the white cloves began to transform the mounds of dirt into polka dot displays, a juvenile form of natural art. Snaking our way through the beds, we returned to the start of each to drive the cloves four inches underground using nothing but the force of our thumbs. Barefoot as we worked, we welcomed October’s cold and hard morning soil underfoot. So desperate to connect with the earth after too many months in the city, I wanted to align myself with the terra on every level possible. I savored the sensation of soil between my fingertips and welcomed the sun’s rays on my back. I watched the roaming chickens with adoration as the creatures pecked at the soil in pursuit of their morning breakfast. I inhaled deeply as the wind passed bringing with it the smell of cow dung from the barn. All the while, Francesca and I kept our system alive, mimicking the cycles of the earth. Throw garlic. Push garlic into the soil. Return to the start of a new row. A rhythmic routine.

Long after Francesca and I left Threshold Farm to return to the Big Apple, the scent of garlic followed us. We caught whiffs of the pungent yet somehow sweet odor lingering on our hands, and with that perfume still in our nostrils, Francesca and I vowed to return to Threshold Farm to see the fruits of our labor.

Now, five months later, we are back in the garlic beds, ready to reap what we sowed. Here we are in Philmont, NY. Stay tuned for more adventures on Threshold Farm.

the twigster,

Josephine

PS: Threshold Farm now has some piggies! Oink.

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